


Boys

by R00bs_Teacup



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9398156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00bs_Teacup/pseuds/R00bs_Teacup
Summary: fluffy sick fwoopy fic for glim





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/gifts).



Arthur over-uses his body. Without fail, he does it. Even after his surgery, when he absolutely promised he was going to just rest and recover, he’d overdone it. Even after his surgery, which mellowed him a whole hell of a lot about his overdoing his body. It’s all about being big, Merlin. I’ve got to get a lot of muscle, Merlin. To pass, I have to be in peak physical condition, Merlin. Once I’ve got myself fixed I can relax, Merlin. But he hadn’t. 

“Anyway, so basically no one’s surprised that he’s sick,” Merlin finishes explaining to Gwaine. 

“Yeah, babe, I know, I’ve known him ages too and you’re being whiney,” Gwaine says, draining his coffee. He’s in a foul mood. “New record, please.”

“I’m gonna text him, tell him to come over,” Merlin says. 

That’ll teach Gwaine to be moody. Then he can be the one who listens to Arthur’s constant raspy coughing, and watch him droop exhaustedly into furnishings. They’re at Gwaine’s, for their weekly coffee date. They’ve already had sex. Gwaine finds it hilarious that Merlin has a diary for sex, but it’s much nicer to have it scheduled and know when and what to expect. It makes it much more organised and arousing. Gwaine likes spontaneity. He tells Merlin all about how surprising and fresh things with Percy are. He’s not in a good mood today, so he’s done a lot of talking about how nice things with Percy are. Merlin knows he’s perfectly happy with Merlin, so he ignores it. Merlin also knows that Gwaine likes the security and certainty of their nice scheduled love affair as much as he does. So he sits serenely, legs crossed, and drinks his coffee. 

“You actually texted him?” Gwaine says, when the door buzzer goes from downstairs. “Merls.”

“Maybe he just turned up. He does that sometimes. You two pine after one another,” Merlin says. 

“Fuck off,” Gwaine says, going to let Arthur in. 

They do pine after one another, though. Merlin can’t understand why they don’t just date. Well, he kind of can. He’s demi-sexual, which Gwaine is comfortable with, but Arthur’s ace and doesn’t want sex, and Gwaine communicates with sex, so Merlin can understand both their reluctance. Arthur’s just slow with everything anyway, so it’ll come when it comes. Gwaine waits by the front door and gathers Arthur into a cuddle, when he gets up to the flat. Merlin snorts into his mug, trying to hide his amusement: Arthur’s bundled. He’s got at least three jumpers on, Merlin can tell by the way his coat fits. Or barely fits. He’s bulging out of it. And he’s got two scarves and a hat with ear flaps ties under his chin. And his joggers are tight, which means he’s wearing two pairs, and probably tights as well. And lots of socks. Thick wooly ones. He’s got Leon’s trainers on, which are a size too big. He coughs into Gwaine’s shoulder, swaying in Gwaine’s hold, body drooping into Gwaine’s. 

“Bless you,” Merlin says, as Gwaine shuts the door. 

“I didn’ sneeze,” Arthur mumbles, coughing, coughing coughing. 

“No, bless you, you’re cute,” Merlin says. “What are you wearing?”

“Being mean,” Arthur says.

He raises his face from Gwaine’s shoulder with a sniff, eyes bright, lip wobbling. Merlin grins and opens up his arms, putting his mug aside. Arthur comes shuffling over, discarding shoes and coat as he comes, keeping the hat and many jumpers and trousers. He lays himself carefully on the sofa and sinks into it, limps limp and pathetic and floppy. He presses his cheek to Merlin’s thigh and coughs into Merlin’s hip. Merlin undoes the ties under his chin and rests a hand on the back of his neck, which is sweaty. 

“Why’m I here?” Arthur mumbles. 

“Change of scene, new place to rest, annoy Gwaine,” Merlin lists, ticking them off his fingers. “And I missed you.”

Arthur flushes and presses closer, trying to hide his face, coughing and coughing and coughing. 

“I see what you mean,” Gwaine says, frowning at Arthur, hands on his hips. “I have some of that stuff. What’s it called?”

“Vicks” Arthur says. “No. Gross and sticky.”

“He has cough syrup and an inhaler,” Merlin says, shrugging. “Did you take things?”

“Yeh,” Arthur says. Coughing. 

Gwaine sits on Arthur’s feet, letting his head fall back against the sofa. He looks lovely, so Merlin reaches over to touch his cheek, and Gwaine turns into it, giving a rueful little smile. It’s enough of an apology. Merlin smiles in acceptance, and Gwaine’s widens. They both look down at Arthur, and Gwaine gives Arthur’s hip a little pat. 

“Don’t,” Arthur says. “Fat.”

“Little cute chubby,” Merlin says, wriggling his hand up Arthur’s jumpers and giving his small chubby belly a pat. “Very lovely and manly.”

Arthur grins, kissing Merlin’s thigh. He likes being chubby. He likes feeling like he’s passing with a little bit of weight. He was always a bit on the chunky side, if he didn’t push himself so hard. Now he plays rugby, and likes the extra size. He’s still ridiculous about fitness and sports and is a bit obsessed with making his thighs and arms and shoulders big, but he also lets himself eat whatever he likes. And he likes a lot of things. 

“You two are disgusting,” Gwaine says. “Too sweet. Like baklava.”

“I didn’t make you eat it,” Merlin says.

He did make Gwaine kiss the honey out of his mouth, but that had been sexy. Gwaine had said so. Gwaine’s cheeks go a tiny bit flushed, and Merlin feels self-satisfied. He is a good kisser. He and Will did lots of practising. Arthur takes an unsteady breath and coughs, rougher than before, the sound rasping in his chest. Merlin nudges Gwaine off and Arthurs sits up, curling against Merlin’s chest more upright. Gwaine goes to get him some water, then putters around in the kitchen for a while, whistling. 

“He was really grumpy before you got here,” Merlin whispers, removing Arthur’s ridiculous hat so he can do hair petting. “He likes you.”

“God, embarrassing Merry,” Arthur whispers back. “We both know you ship us.”

“What is shipping?” Merlin says, grinning. Arthur headbutts him lightly. 

“I have a headache. Will you read to me? I also feel sick.”

“Mm?” Merlin asks, frowning, stroking the hair off Arthur’s hot forehead.

“Just the fever. It’s still not high,” Arthur says. “Also the coughing, and the rivers of snot. I need tissues if we’re staying sitting here.”

“Gwaine! Our liege lord wants tissue!” Merlin calls, lazily, not bothering to shift in the slightest. Arthur’s got worse than snot on him, in terms of bodily fluids. Like when he got his nipple pierced and it got infected and he made Merlin help keep it clean. Puss is definitely worse than snot. “I’m not reading fanfiction to you.”

“Please? It’s Endeavour fic, you like reading about Oxford and the people who write it are lovely and literary lots of them, so you’ll like that. And you listen to opera, so you like it when they talk about that, too,” Arthur says. “And, and I’ve got you here, it’s femslash.”

He smiles smugly (and he’s right, he knows all of Merlin’s weaknesses), but then his breath catches, and he coughs abruptly and harshly. Gwaine comes back in with a box of tissues and a steaming mug. The coughing’s sharp and barking. 

“Can you check his coat for an inhaler?” Merlin asks, patting Arthur’s back. 

He slides his hand up under the wads of jumpers, to rub at the warm skin of Arthur’s lower back, where it always aches. Gwaine brings the inhaler over and dumps his offerings on the table, sitting beside them again, rubbing Arthur’s thickly socked feet in a lovely comforting way. 

“I’ll read fic to you,” Gwaine says. “I tagged you in a bunch of stuff on Tumblr earlier, while Merlin was post-sex-napping.”

“Mm,” Arthur wheezes. Gwaine passes over the inhaler, and Arthur takes it, coughing hard when he’s managed to hold his breath for ten. “Saw. Liked the Yuri on Ice art. Not doing the meme. My favourite colour’s green, there you go.”

Gwaine passes him the mug and Arthur takes a suspicious sip, then sighs, going limp with pleasure against Merlin. Merlin wraps him in a warmer tighter hug, and smiles. Gwaine’s made him lemon and honey. It always makes Arthur go all snuffly and sweet and soft. Morgana used to make it for him, when they were younger, and Arthur is so fond and happy about it always. It’s one of the things from his childhood he has good memories about. 

“I’ll read it,” Merlin says, giving in. He’s better at it than Gwaine, Gwaine is apt to go off on the bits he likes and approves of and get into discussions about characterization. And he doesn’t know how to skip the sex properly when it comes up. “Is it on your phone?”

Arthur nods, eyes heavy, coughing into his mug. It’s just a light cough, so Merlin leaves Gwaine to do comforting rubbing and fishes Arthur’s phone out. He has it in the pocket of his joggers, but the second pair that’s underneath, so it takes a good bit of fishing. The phone’s locked, but Merlin’s thumbprint opens it. That still makes Merlin jelly inside, that Arthur wants to share his phone with Merlin. His phone is where he keeps his fanart and his fic and his tumblr and all his soft special things, like little notes and letters and recordings. His poetry and original writing, too, which most people know nothing about. He writes wonderful poems. Merlin knows - his degree is in English lit. and he teaches lit. and he loves lit. and his MA and Phd is lit. Merlin’s favourite recent poem is one about Gwen. Arthur’s worried it might read as romantic, but it doesn’t, it’s just very sweet. Merlin also likes the picture of Elyan that Arthur’s working on. He’s doing a sketch-book full of queer bodies. The one of Elyan is lovely- he’s got Elyan naked, shy and bold at once, the scars of him obvious but just part of his skin. Arthur’s sketches of Gwaine, of course, are always exquisite, and actually influenced Merlin’s latest illustration project. 

“How did you exhaust yourself, this time?” Gwaine asks, interrupting Merlin’s musings and reminding him to find the fic. It’s up on the web browser, and Merlin already knows he’s going to like it - it’s got mythical allusions. 

“Didn’t,” Arthur grumbles. 

“Dancing,” Merlin says, shortly. “Do you want the summary read? Notes?”

“Just the story,” Arthur says. 

“Perce said you’ve been coming more, to dance,” Gwaine says. “But that you seemed to be enjoying it less. Pushing yourself. Focussed.”

“I’m fine,” Arthur says. “I just want to move properly, not like a lump.”

“Let him,” Merlin says. “It’s easier to let him work the obsession out.”

Arthur snuffles, and his hand tightens against Merlin’s shirt. Merlin sets the phone on the thigh Arthur’s not currently got for himself, and closes his hand over Arthur’s, using his other arm to wrap him closer. Arthur shudders and cries a little against Merlin’s shoulder, coughing through it.

“Sorry,” Gwaine says, grimacing. “Didn’t mean to upset you, sweets.”

“You didn’t,” Merlin says. “Just body stuff.”

“I like dancing,” Arthur says, tears slowing. 

“You’ll go back to it soon,” Merlin says. “I’ll come with, mm?”

“Yeah,” Arthur says. “Will help. You like the way I move.”

“I do,” Merlin agrees, admiringly. “You have such a splendid bum, and you swagger so beautiful, and you really are just gorgeous.”

“I am,” Arthur agrees, full of himself once more. “I find you rather splendid, too, Merry.”

“I know,” Merlin says. “You think I’m the best.”

“God, gross,” Gwaine says. 

“You’re pretty, too,” Arthur mumbles. “Got a fantastic arse.”

Gwaine smiles, and gets up to show it off, pulling down his trousers and pants, making Arthur laugh and hack and need his inhaler again. Gwaine curls up against his side when he’s done, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s waist. 

“Let’s be platonic somethings, Arthur,” Gwaine says, kissing Arthur’s cheek. “Would that be ok? Important, but platonic.”

“It would be lovely,” Merlin says. 

“Ok,” Arthur says. “Read, Merry.”

Merlin gets started on the fic, his lovely boys snuggled against him.


End file.
